Work Text:
Scenes From a Remarkable Marriage
"Ravenclaw," the Sorting Hat shouted out.
The young girl leapt off the stool, her black curls bouncing as she moved, and hurried to join her new housemates. Minerva smiled and wondered how her parents would feel about the news. She shook her head. Ravenclaw seemed the natural choice for the child of bravest man she knew and the smartest witch of her age.
Watching young Evelyn Snape as she sat with her new housemates, Minerva recalled the times that brought her parents together and marvelled again at the circumstances of their remarkable story.
oo00oo
It was an unlikely friendship from the beginning. Some would say that the two of them were forced into one another's presence by being associated with Harry Potter, but that would be only partially true. In his youth, Severus had been in love with Potter's mother. His best friend, Lily Evans, had married the love of her life, and it rankled for years that it was not him. But time had changed all of that—time, and falling in love.
Hermione had always admired his skill with potions, even when he'd been the dread 'potions master'. Despite his snide comments and hurtful words, she had been unable to deny that she felt a connection...something that beckoned her to find out more about the solitary man.
And Severus, ever watchful and more intelligent than the vast majority of the wizarding population, had noticed that Hermione, even at eleven, had a particularly fine mind.
So in truth, what attracted them to one another to begin with had been an admiration of their mutual intelligence. What bound them together from there had been an accident of fate, and their recognition of a kindred spirit. They had both, at times, felt isolated from others by their intellects. Together, they didn't need to pretend that they were not as smart as they actually were.
But that would come later, after they first became friends...
The war as in its second year and not for the first time Severus had been gone for nearly twenty-four hours, and Poppy was beginning to panic. She needed more burn-healing paste to heal several fifth-years who had thought a prank involving a Blast-Ended Skrewt was a stellar idea. Unfortunately, the Skrewt blasted the Ravenclaw Common Room and seven students had been injured.
As Headmistress, I made a decision and requested that Hermione Granger go to the potions lab and begin brewing the paste. She was nearly finished when Severus returned. The resulting confrontation was loud and spectacular.
oo00oo
"What, pray tell," Severus snapped, slamming his hand onto the counter, "do you think you are doing, Miss Granger?"
"Professor!" she cried out, startled.
"Yes," Severus sneered, "I am here. Did I ruin your little fun? Interrupt your pathetic attempt to sneak about my classroom?"
"No!" Hermione said, indignant for a moment. She shook her head. "I mean, yes..." She exhaled in a huff. "I mean, I am not having fun."
"Of course not, now that your little secret has been discovered." He leaned closer, his face mutinous. "Did you really think you could get away with this?"
Hermione placed a Stasis Charm over her cauldron. "I am not trying to get away with anything!" She paused. "Sir."
Severus looked into her eyes, restraining himself from using Legilimency on her. He sighed, leaned against the counter and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Explain yourself, then."
"She has nothing to explain," Minerva said, entering the classroom. "Hermione is following my instructions. Poppy needed burn paste immediately and I decided that in your absence Miss Granger was the most competent student who knew of your loyalties available to brew the paste." She held her chin high and glared at Severus.
"Meddling old busy-body. Fine," Severus grumbled, stepping over to the work station next to Hermione, “all appears in order. You may run along, Miss Granger. I am capable of completing the brewing and delivering the paste to Madam Pomfrey."
Hermione shifted and then stopped. "Thank you, sir, but no."
Severus' eyes narrowed. "Perhaps I was not clear enough, Miss Granger," he continued, his tone menacing. "This was not a request, it was an order."
Hermione pulled herself up to her full height, which still left her nearly a foot shorter than her professor. "I understood completely."
Severus raised an eyebrow and tilted his head to the side.
"You've been gone over twenty-four hours. Merlin only knows how long since you last slept." Her hands were clasped in front of her, fingers rapidly circling and rubbing together. "Once I remove the Stasis on the paste, I simply need to stir in the infusion of marigold petals and wait for it to cool. After that I can bottle it up and deliver the paste to Madam Pomfrey. And you can get some much needed rest. Sir."
"I do not recall requesting a keeper, Miss Granger," Severus snapped. "It would behove you to remember your place."
"With all due respect, Professor," Hermione replied, the slight quiver in her voice belying the determined look on her face, "we're in the midst of a war. I may still be a student, but I am an adult. And I'm on your side. Let me do this for you, please?"
Severus glanced at Minerva from the corner of his eye, before closing them in frustration. "If you feel you must emulate the people-saving quality of your friend Potter, who am I to stop you?" He turned with a snap of his robes, calling over his shoulder, "I expect this room to be spotless when you have completed your task, Miss Granger."
The moment the door to his quarters slammed behind him, his outer robes were off and tossed aside. Severus strode across the room and grabbed the closest bottle from the sideboard. He quickly poured three fingers of the amber Firewhiskey and downed them in a gulp. As if nearly an entire day in the presence of insanity wasn't enough, I come back to the resident know-it-all brewing after hours!
"What was that batty old woman thinking?" he muttered. He sighed heavily, pouring another glass and downing it a bit more slowly.
"Well," he mused, lips twisting. "If there must be someone invading my lab, I should consider myself fortunate that Minerva found someone who knows what they're doing."
Granger was irritating, but she, unlike her little friends, had a fine mind.
ooOOoo
The war was coming to a head and tensions were high. Hermione had very unwillingly agreed to remain within the protective barriers of Hogwarts, but I knew she would have preferred to be alongside her friends. However, Mr Weasley had worked hard to convince her that he needed to know she was safe, to not worry about her during a battle. He and Harry were gone for days at a time. I was aware of some of what their absences entailed and how often they were in danger. It would have been impossible not to see that Mr Weasley and Miss Granger were more than friends. It showed in those subtle ways that children miss and that adults look for when in charge of adolescents.
Hermione was spending several evenings a week in the Potions classroom, brewing healing potions, helping to keep St. Mungo's and our hospital wing stocked. As the war raged on, she began to assist Severus in the brewing of potions he had created. There was one such potion in particular that would assist the Order in their becoming nearly invisible to the naked eye. Now several months into the fighting, I worried that she was pushing herself too hard; she had a tired, almost haggard look about her.
Severus' position with the Dark Lord and with the Order was precarious at best. His temper was short and Miss Granger seemed to be at the receiving end of it far too often.
oo00oo
"May I speak to you, Professor?" Hermione's voice was soft and trembled slightly.
"It would appear, Miss Granger, that you currently are speaking to me."
Normally, that would have elicited at least a sigh from Hermione, but instead her eyes filled with tears and she struggled to keep them from spilling down her cheeks.
"I...well you see..." She hesitated. "I'm afraid I..."
"For the love of Merlin, woman," Severus spat out impatiently. "When did stringing words together into a sentence become impossible for you?"
Hermione drew herself up, shoulders back and head held high. "I needed to tell you that I'll not be able to brew the Stealth Potion anymore."
Severus stopped. He turned towards Hermione. "I will assume that you have a valid reason for suddenly refusing to brew this particular potion. Am I correct in assuming that this is the only potion you have so abruptly become unwilling to assist with?"
"Yes, sir," she replied, her voice barely a whisper. "I'm afraid the hellebore might cause problems for the baby."
"There are no babies in this school..." Severus paused and leaned back against the edge of the desk, the significance of her words sinking in. "Miss Granger, am I to assume that you are..." He was unable to finish the sentence.
Hermione's head was lowered and she looked at him through lidded eyes. "Yes, sir. I've suspected for a couple of weeks and confirmed it with a Muggle test last evening."
Severus sat on the stool at the work station. He rubbed his hand across his forehead, just above his eyes before sliding it down to run against his chin. "And the father is Mr Weasley?"
She raised her head, eyes shining and her jaw set. "Of course Ron is the father! Do I look like the kind of person who sleeps around?"
"Forgive me, Miss Granger; this is somewhat out of my realm of expertise. I apologize for seeming disrespectful. It's just that—"
"Well, contrary to rumours," she shot back, fire in her voice, "it is possible for Contraception Charms to fail and for one to become pregnant the first time!"
"Quite," he replied, struggling not to shout back at her.
Finally, the tears that had been threatening to fall slid down her cheeks. She sat down, her shoulders sagging. "I've really mucked things up this time." She covered her face with her hands and sobbed.
Severus sat dumb-struck for a moment before moving across the room and, hesitating, awkwardly put his arm around her shoulders. He cautiously patted her on the arm, in what he hoped was a reassuring fashion.
Hermione pulled back suddenly, her mouth open. "I'm sorry. I didn't intend to fall apart."
"In my limited experience," Severus said slowly, "I have found that when one falls apart, as you eloquently put it, it occurs when your body feels it is necessary to do so, and not when most appropriate to do so."
Hermione smiled for the first time since entering the classroom. She moved across the room and began to select the ingredients needed to brew Pepper-Up Potion for Madam Pomfrey. She turned to face Severus. "Sir? Thank you for not making this any harder than it already is."
Severus gave her a curt nod in reply. They worked in silence for nearly an hour before Severus stepped to the other side of her work table. "Does Mr Weasley know?" he asked.
She looked up at him, her brow furrowed and eyes bright again, a crimson stain rising up her neck. "I've not seen him for nearly three weeks. And the last time I saw him I didn't suspect anything."
"Do you not feel that news of this magnitude warrants an Owl?"
"I don't want to compromise his position." She sighed deeply. "I'm not really sure where he is or what he and Harry are doing. An Owl could bring unwanted attention to them."
"Miss Granger..."
"No!" Hermione said, then, apparently embarrassed by her outburst, added, "It's not the time. I'm barely pregnant. I have plenty of time to let him know."
Severus smirked; Hermione glared at him.
"My apologies, but 'barely pregnant' is a bit of oxymoron, wouldn't you say? One might barely have a cold, but even my limited experience in such matters tells me it is impossible to be barely pregnant. You either are or you are not."
"Well, I am and I'll tell Ron when the time is right and not one minute before."
ooOOoo
Time...it was the one thing there was never enough of. Mr Weasley and Miss Granger were happy and in love. They had a baby on the way. Yes, they were young, but soon the war would be over and they could be a family. But as with any war, there are causalities. Often the ones with the most to lose are the first ones to experience the greatest loss.
ooOOoo
"Severus," Minerva said, her voice uncharacteristically wavering. "There was a… confrontation early this afternoon."
Severus' shoulders stiffened, but he did not turn around.
"Mr Potter, Mr Weasley and several members of the Order had met at The Leaky. As they were leaving, they were surrounded by Death Eaters. The encounter was brief, but..."
"Injuries?"
"Several slight ones. A few well placed hexes, but overall the injuries were minimal."
Severus turned and looked at Minerva closely. She appeared to have aged ten years since he had seen her that very morning.
"Casualities?"
"One."
"Good god, did they kill...Potter?" Severus grasped the edge of his desk, his knuckles white.
Minerva hung her head and shook it slowly. When she spoke, it was barely even a whisper. "Ronald Weasley."
He heard an odd sort of rushing in his ears as he stared into the face of his old friend, his heart sinking. It wasn't that he was particularly fond of Weasley—he'd always found him sort of dim—but he remembered Miss Granger's face as she'd told him she was pregnant...
There was a stool behind him, and he sat on it numbly. "Does Herm... does Miss Granger know?"
Minerva nodded. "Severus, I'm worried about her. She's in the hospital wing helping out. But she refuses to venture too far from Mr Potter's bedside. She hasn't eaten today and she looks as if a mild breeze will knock her unconscious."
"And you suspect that I might have some influence over her? Surely you know of her tenacity, Minerva. It took Weasley days to convince her to remain at the school."
"Please," Minerva pleaded. "You two seem to have reached an understanding. Perhaps you can appeal to her," she paused, "as a friend."
"Colleague, perhaps – friend, I fear, is a stretch." Severus turned, and made his way to the infirmary.
"Oh, Severus,” Minerva said softly to herself, "you’ve always underestimated your worth as a friend. Do not make the same mistakes this time around."
Severus entered the hospital wing, his eyes immediately drawn to Hermione. She was moving quickly from bed to bed, conjuring a cup of water on each bedside table. She paused at the last bed, bending down, smoothing her hand over a head of unruly dark hair. 'Ah, Potter...' he thought. He waited until she had moved out of the main ward and over towards Madam Pomfrey's office. He crossed the room and moved beside her.
"Hermione?" He touched her arm as he spoke to draw her attention.
She started and looked at him, her features drawn and her eyes bracketed with lines of exhaustion. "So, you've heard," her voice was flat.
Severus grasped her arm. "Hermione, you need to stop. You need to sit."
"I can't sit. If I stop, I think, and right now I can't think. I can't feel – no, I don't want to feel."
She wrenched out of his grip and returned to her fussing over the patients. Straightening linens that were already straight, fluffing pillows that needed no fluffing.
Severus followed her into the ward. "Miss Granger, a word, if you please." He grasped her by the arm and practically pulled her from the room and out the door. He maintained his hold on her until they entered an empty classroom. Severus conjured a comfortable chair and sat her down before warding the door and placing a Silencing Charm on the room.
"How are you, Hermione?" Severus asked tentatively.
"As long as I'm busy, I'm fine," she replied tersely. "So if you'd allow me out of this room, I'll go back to being busy and therefore will once again be fine."
"When did you eat last?"
Hermione shrugged in reply, her eyes downcast. "I can't. Nothing tastes good. I feel as if I might be sick just thinking about food."
Severus knelt by the side of her chair. "Hermione, I don't need to tell you that nothing is solved by you starving yourself"—his eyes flitted down to her waist—"and your baby. You need to eat and you need to rest. Take time to process everything."
"I'm afraid," she replied, her voice barely audible.
"Of what?" he asked cautiously.
"Look at me. I'm eighteen years old. Pregnant." She looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. "And the father of my baby is dead. I'm alone and I don't know how to do this alone." She dropped her head into her hands and sobbed. "I just don't know how to do this," she whispered.
Severus reached an arm around her, clumsily offering her comfort as he had when she first confessed her situation not so long before. He remained kneeling on the floor long after his knees told him he should stand. While he waited for her sobs to end, he formulated a plan.
"Hermione?" he asked, wincing at the throb in his legs.
She looked up, eyes red-rimmed and her nose the colour of an apple. "Oh," she cried. "That can't be comfortable." She stood and helped him stand.
Severus bristled at her touch, but allowed her to assist him. "Sit, I'm perfectly fine."
Hermione sat and Severus walked across the room. He leaned against the edge of the teacher's desk. "I have a proposition for you, Hermione."
She looked up, her face fraught with confusion.
"This is probably not the best time for this, but I feel we would need to act immediately for it to be feasible."
"I'm not sure I like the sound of that," she replied, worrying her lip with her teeth.
"I'd appreciate you allowing me to say my piece before you interrupt me with your anticipated rejection." His voice was strong, but Hermione could see the trepidation in his eyes. "I'd like to propose that you and I marry."
"Yo-you and I what?" Hermione spluttered.
He raised his hand, requesting her silence. "Allow me to finish. Am I correct in assuming that Minerva and I are the only people who know of your current condition?" Hermione nodded. "Perfect. There is a stigma given to women who bear children out of wedlock. Even in our society. I am offering to give your child a name – no strings attached. I suffer no delusions—you don’t love me, nor I you. However, we have respect for each other and many marriages have begun with even less."
"But what will I tell Ron's parents? They have a right to know."
"I agree. But it is not imperative for them to know right now." Severus continued. "This war will not last much longer, we both know that. Once it is finished, we will go together and tell them. When explained in a less emotion-filled setting, they will see the reasoning. We will certainly speak with them before your offspring arrives sprouting a full head of red hair and freckles. Even I would be incapable of explaining that genetic coding."
"Why would you do this?" she asked incredulously.
"I told you," he replied, "to give your child a name and to help you avoid the unpleasant connotations that follow an unwed mother." He paused, and cleared his throat, looking away from her eyes. "You have far too fine a mind to have something unintended diminish you in the eyes of others."
"I still don't understand why you would do this," Hermione said, sounding both confused and sad. "I can't imagine why you would care what other people think of me." She eyed him warily. "What do you get out of this?"
"Perhaps atonement for sins unspoken and the opportunity to assist someone I have a great deal of respect for. However, make no mistake, Hermione, this will be a marriage of convenience, not one born out of love." Severus turned away before Hermione had an opportunity to see the melancholy on his face.
oo00oo
Several days passed before Hermione came to a decision. A fortnight had passed, and Severus and Hermione were wed in a small private ceremony in my office. Severus was summoned by the Dark Lord that night. Hogwarts was attacked the following day.
ooOOoo
Severus patted her shoulder and ran his hand down her bushy hair. "I have been answering to this madman since before you were born. I'm in no more danger today than I was the last time I responded to his summons. Now I must go. I want you to stay here in my quarters. They are securely warded and the Floo can only be used for you to call someone. No one will harm either of you in here."
Severus grasped his outer cloak and hurried out the door. Hermione watched as he left, a persistent niggling in the back of her mind warning her that something was about to go terribly wrong.
ooOOoo
In hindsight, we should have known better than to leave her to her own defences. But the war was raging on the grounds outside the school. Severus had betrayed Voldemort and set the stage for Potter to finish him off. We were certain that she would be safe from harm, tucked inside the stone fortress. But it was not the war that would nearly kill her. It was nature. The spotting started in the middle of the night. Exhaustion and worry had made her sleep deeply and by the time she was wakened by the intense cramping, it was too late for anything to be done. She managed to get to the Floo and alert Poppy before collapsing, but her child with Ron was lost. It was nothing short of a miracle that her life was not lost as well. Outside of the castle, Harry Potter did what he'd been destined to do since he was an infant, with Severus Snape at his side. Inside, Hermione Granger-Snape lost the destiny she had recently acquired and grieved over what never would be.
I was the one who told Severus the news. For all of the years that I'd known the man, I do not believe I'd ever seen such sadness in his eyes. The joy that the war was finally over dissolved into complete despair with those few words. When he asked me what more the poor girl would have to bear, I had no answer for him. I watched him turn towards the hospital wing, walking like a man bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders.
oo00oo
He had not meant to eavesdrop. In all of his years as a double agent for the Dark Lord, he'd detested that part of his role the most. But he heard Hermione's voice, muffled by tears and took a step closer in time to hear Potter's voice. He was unable to make out the words, but the tone was one of comfort and he was grateful for Potter's presence. He grasped the doorknob and paused as Hermione's voice wafted out.
"...and now I did this for nothing. The reason we married no longer exists."
Severus froze. His heart began to pound. The words she spoke were true, but they hurt him in a way that he'd never have expected.
"I didn't plan to care about him, Harry. I didn't want to care about him. And as sudden as this seems...I do. Losing him would be as painful as losing Ron." She finished and Severus walked away, her words repeating in his mind, unable to deny the longing in her voice.
Severus returned to the dungeon. He walked slowly through the rooms, his mind racing at the thought of Hermione being in there alone. Terrified. Helpless.
He sat in his favourite chair by the hearth and flicked his wand to start the fire, attempting to take the non-existent chill out of the air. Unable to be still, he stood and began to pace. Convinced it was for the best, and for the second time in several weeks, he formulated a plan involving Hermione's life...without consulting her.
oo00oo
Hermione moved back into the guest room in Severus' quarters when she was released from hospital, but the easy companionship they'd shared before now was strained, and tense. The days passed in near silence, they were both edgy, neither one willing to broach the subject of the future.
The school year ended after the final battle, although any seventh years so inclined were allowed to sit their NEWTs in June. Hermione found relief from the stultifying atmosphere of their quarters, studying long hours in the library, and passed hers with her typical sterling marks.
ooOOoo
"Hermione?" he asked tentatively, sitting across from her in their living room. "Now that your education at Hogwarts is complete, I believe it is time to discuss the future."
Hermione looked up from the book she was reading, surprise and trepidation in her eyes.
"I think I know what this is about," she said softly, setting her book aside and twisting her fingers.
Severus raised a brow, but continued. "I believe that you should go away to University. Too much has been taken from you by this war; you've a right to become what you wish."
"I thought..." she began, and then stopped, as if catching herself.
"You thought what?"
Hermione, chin lifted resolutely, raised her eyes to meet his. "It doesn't matter. You're right. A change would be good and I do plan on continuing my education."
Severus stood, stepped over to her side and, for a moment, it appeared as if he might reach out and touch her. Instead, he let his hand fall to his side. "I'm sure Minerva can assist you in determining the most appropriate school." He stared at her for a moment longer, then turned and left the room.
oo00oo
And so it was decided. The summer passed with little fanfare. Hermione and Severus went to see her parents and explain the circumstances that found her married. As expected, they were hurt that they were not included in her decision, but the love they had for their only daughter overcame any hard feelings. By the end of their visit, her parents had agreed to support Hermione's decisions.
I was, in fact, very helpful in finding a university that had both an extensive magical, as well as non-magical, curriculum. Université Toulouse was in the south of France, and Hermione was accepted into their Masters in Potions programme.
She took a few days to say good-bye to her friends and to spend time with Harry Potter, who had just entered Auror training, before returning to the castle to pack her belongings for her trip across the channel.
ooOOoo
"I didn't want to bother you if you're busy," Hermione said quietly, from her place in the doorway.
"You are never a bother, Hermione." Severus placed his quill on the desk, clasping his hands in front of him. "Are you prepared to leave?"
"Yes," she replied, entering the room and pausing by his desk. "My Portkey activates in about thirty minutes." She looked down at the floor. "I just wanted to say good-bye."
Severus reached over, placing his fingers beneath her chin and raising it until she was looking at him. A faint blush covered her cheeks and he smiled in spite of himself.
"Good-bye, Hermione," his voice was gentle. "Be well and safe."
She straightened herself up, pausing as if she wanted to say more. They stared at each other for several seconds. "May I write?" she asked cautiously.
Severus found himself so startled that his only response could be a nod, for his throat was too tight to speak. Hermione turned and began to walk out of the room, stopping at the doorway. She rushed back, leaning in slightly to kiss Severus on the cheek. "Thank you, Severus. For everything," she blurted, before spinning on her heel and leaving the room.
oo00oo
Their relationship changed over the next two years. While Hermione was at University, they kept in touch through the owl post. In the beginning they exchanged letters every few months. The letters were filled at first with cautious words, but became more light-hearted as the pain of the past receded, and as they grew to know one another.
The two letters and the excerpts following, have been reprinted with their permission.
As time went by, the tone of their correspondence changed. It grew warmer, more intimate. They became, I think to the surprise of them both, friends.
From Hermione’s letter of 12 December 1998:
Severus,
(and you cannot imagine how strange it feels to write that, even now. I will, I'm sure, become used to it!) I've been offered an opportunity to stay and spend the holiday break working with Professor Marchande as a lab assistant. I’m sure it will probably involve little more than chopping ingredients and washing beakers, but it seems too good an opportunity to turn down. I hope you will not mind if I accept this invitation, and remain in France over the holidays.
To which Severus replied on 17 December 1998:
Hermione,
An invitation such as that from Professor Marchande is an honour only someone very foolish would turn down. As I have said repeatedly, you have a very fine mind. Such foolishness would be very unlike you.
I remember vividly the pride that passed over his face when he received her letter in March of the following year. Professor Marchande had asked her to be his research assistant for the duration of her time in France. Severus told me of the appointment with pride in his voice and sadness in his eyes. I knew then he had no idea yet the important role Hermione played in his life.
There were moments of levity in their exchanges, and I saw my good friend thaw under the enthusiasm of her letters. He actually smiled when he read the following:
18 May 1998
Severus,
My work with Professor Marchande goes well. He has a brilliant mind, but is a stern task-master. Much like someone else I once brewed potions with, as a matter of fact.
To which he replied:
30 May 1999
Hermione,
I shall take the compliment about the brilliance of my mind, and ignore your reference to my demeanour. And you, young lady, have developed some unbecoming cheek.
Their correspondence became more frequent, and though he attempted nonchalance in the beginning, his face would soften a bit more with every letter that arrived. He seemed to relax while he held the parchment in his hand, his face more open and expressive than even he knew. He shared more of himself with Hermione than I believe he has ever shared with another.
12 August 1999
Dear Hermione,
Summer is nearly over, and I have spent the better part of the last month designing study plans for the first term. I have been at this position for nearly 20 years, and the planning for this year has seemed...more daunting.
Perhaps I am just feeling my age...
He was still chuckling when he allowed me to read her response of the following week.
4 September 1999
Dear Severus,
Professor Marchande, at 159, should be feeling his age. You, at 40, scarcely have the right to be complaining!
As the two years went by, I watched him fall more in love with her with every new letter. I could only hope that she was not going to break his heart when she returned. And then he received a letter from her just before her graduation, filled with wonderful news. He could scarcely reply quickly enough, he was so proud.
23 May 2000
My dearest Hermione,
I have just received your letter, and knew that I must respond immediately.
I have never doubted your ability, and it appears my faith in you was not misplaced. Graduate Emeritus and Valedictorian. You find yourself surprised by this, but I am not. I hope you will not find my pride in your accomplishments misplaced.
Have you given any thought to what career paths you might pursue following graduation?
Severus and I were having tea in the faculty room shortly after he had replied. I was grateful that she did not make him wait long.
27 May 2000
Dearest Severus,
Thank you so much for your congratulations. Of all the compliments that I have received, I hope you know that yours mean the most to me.
And I have always known that the only reason that I have gone as far as I have was because I was fortunate enough to apprentice to you, first. Professor Marchande is a brilliant man. But so, dear Severus, are you.
As to my plans after graduation, the only thing I know with absolute certainty is that I want to return to England. Being in France has been a wonderful experience, but it is not home. In fact, the one place that I have thought of as home for the past three years has been Hogwarts, in no small part because you are there.
I do not believe that it will come as a surprise to you when I say that I have feelings for you. I have, for the longest time, but I believed that if I’d told you sooner, you would have said that I was merely grateful. Well, I am. I am grateful to you, but not in the ways that you think.
I am grateful to you for helping me at the end of the war, but more grateful for your faith in my ability to help myself. I am grateful for the fact that you never treated me like a foolish child when I told you that I was pregnant. I am grateful that you stood by me when I lost the baby, but even more grateful for the fact that you refused to allow me to feel sorry for myself, and pushed me into continuing my education. You have saved me, Severus, more than once. And for that I am grateful.
But gratitude has nothing whatsoever to do with how I feel about you now, as a man. As my husband. I would like, very much, to come home to my husband.
If this is not what you want, I can return to my parents. But I have given this a great deal of thought, Severus. And I know what I want. I want a marriage.
You’ve only to tell me your desires, and I will abide by them.
Love,
Hermione
He’d gone so very pale as he’d read that last letter that I confess my heart was in my throat. It remained firmly lodged there when he handed me the letter to read. I had never told Severus what to do where his young wife was concerned; I certainly had no intention of doing so now. But I watched him close his eyes, and furrow his brow, and held my breath. When he pushed himself up from his chair near the fire and strode firmly towards a desk in the corner, I watched him with growing trepidation. He did not sit. He pulled out a piece of parchment and, taking a quill from my desk, quickly jotted his response. As he walked back to me, his face told me nothing.
"Minerva," he asked, his deep voice soft but calm. "Could you send this to her for me? Please?"
I nodded, and waited until he left the room to look down at the parchment in my hands. He’d written just two words.
I am not, by rights, an emotional woman. But I cried. Come home.
I asked him if he was going to France for Hermione’s graduation, but he declined, saying "it was an occasion for her and her parents, not for the discomfort created by a long-absent spouse." Personally I believed that Hermione would be thrilled by his presence, but I kept my feelings to myself. The one thing I had learned through long years of being Severus Snape’s friend was how to keep my own council. Severus is a brilliant man, but not one disposed to taking advice. He did send her a lovely graduation gift. It was a ring that had once belonged to his mother, one that I knew he valued very highly. I doubted, however, that he’d shared the significance of the gesture with his wife. ooOOoo
Hermione graduated on 4 June 2000, just days after we’d sent the Hogwarts students home on the train. I believed that it would be at least a week before we saw her; I should have known better. It was just a little after nine the following morning when she walked into the Great Hall, where I was still lingering over my tea and reading the Daily Prophet. Pomona Sprout was the one who first pointed out her arrival.
ooOOoo
I looked up quickly, and sure enough, standing just inside the massive double doors was Hermione, back lit by a shaft of morning sunlight. Her normally bushy curls were tamed into an elegant roll at the back of her head, and she was wearing a simple sun dress in a lovely shade of pink. Her eyes were bright as she surveyed the vast hall. She saw that I had noticed her and smiled, walking toward me with her chin high. In that moment, she was so different from the small, lost creature I’d last seen that I was unaccountably proud of her.
"Professor McGonagall," she said as she stepped in front of me.
"Miss Granger," I answered out of long habit. She arched one dark brow at me, much as her husband might, but didn’t correct me. In fact, her full lips quirked in amusement. "I understand congratulations are in order," I went on quickly. "Graduate Emeritus and Valedictorian."
She smiled faintly. "Thank you." She glanced around the teacher’s table. "I don’t mean to seem abrupt, but I’d actually hoped…" Her voice trailed off as her eyes came back to mine.
"He’s already gone back to his laboratory," I answered. "I believe he thought it would be a few days before your arrival."
"I wanted to surprise him," she said with a soft smile.
"I’m quite certain that you will."
Her smile widened, and she reached up, showing her first hint of self-consciousness, and smoothed her hair with her hand. "I’ll go find him, then. It’s so good to see you. You too, Professor Sprout."
She turned then and left, her back straight, her walk graceful.
"You know," Pomona said thoughtfully from beside me. "I always thought they were the oddest pair. But just now? She seems quite the match for Severus, doesn’t she?"
"Indeed she does," I answered, smiling secretly. I was simply delighted to see that she wore his mother’s ring, the emerald gleaming darkly in the morning light, on the third finger of her left hand. Right where a wife should wear her husband’s ring.
"Now," I thought to myself. "Just don’t be a bloody fool, Severus."
ooOOoo
Whether it was a soft sound, or a sweet, fresh scent on the air, or the way the gooseflesh lifted across his shoulders, somehow Severus knew he wasn’t alone. He knew that there was someone else in the room, and he raised and turned his head, looking over his shoulder.
And froze, stunned, eyes wide.
She was standing just inside the door, and even though the dungeon was a dim and shadowy place, it was as though she were standing in a ray of sunlight. With her golden brown hair pulled back from her heart-shaped face, she had an alarming air of maturity; her soft pink dress revealed tawny arms and shoulders, and clung to her firm breasts and slender hips. With a colour like the heart of a fresh strawberry, the sight of her in that dress made his mouth water.
"Hello, Severus." Her voice was gentle, musical, and she smiled.
He’d always thought her an attractive girl. She’d had a couple of awkward years as an adolescent, but from the time she’d been fourteen or so, Hermione Granger had been more than just passably pretty. It was the intelligence in her brown eyes, lifting them beyond the usual insipid descriptions of chocolate, or cinnamon, to something far, far more resonating. But as he stared at her now, all he could think was that she was absolutely beautiful. Far too beautiful for a broken down, old former Death Eater. Far too special and fine for a potions master twice her age. He turned and straightened, but he couldn’t speak with his heart lodged in his throat.
She came to him, moving with a fluid grace, and stopped next to him, so close that he could feel her warmth. He caught a hint of a soft fragrance, freesia mixed with peppermint, and closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling. She smelled so fresh, so young…
"Dreamless Sleep," she mused softly, and he looked down to watch as she bent slightly and sniffed the cauldron delicately. "You need more asphodel," she said lightly, picking up the perfectly sectioned root and dropping it, a piece at a time, into the pomegranate-coloured potion, picking up his ladle and stirring the contents in perfect circles. Three clockwise, one anticlockwise. Three clockwise, one anticlockwise…
He swallowed heavily. "I did not expect you so soon," he said, alarmed when his voice came out little more than a hoarse whisper. He cleared his throat. "How was commencement?"
She continued to stir. "It was nice," she said dismissively, shrugging her shoulder. "Long."
"But surely," he went on, relieved when his voice sounded more his own, "it was more than merely nice. You received the Graduate Emeritus, you were Valedictorian of your class. Did you not give a speech?"
"A short one," she admitted casually. "People really don’t want to hear long speeches at commencements; they just want to get their diplomas and get on with things."
He frowned slightly. "But… but you deserved that moment, Hermione. You’d worked so hard. Surely no one would have begrudged you a length of speech of your choosing…"
She laid the ladle on the scarred table, and waved her hand to extinguish the flame beneath the cauldron. Severus’ eyes widened at the display of wandless magic.
"Wandless. Impressive," he said. "You did learn something."
She looked up at him with a soft smile. "I learned many things," she agreed. "And I did give the speech of my choosing. Heartfelt, to the point, and brief. I’ll give it for you again later, if you like. I mentioned you in it." She stepped closer to him and his eyes widened slightly at both her words and her movement. "But like my classmates, I had no desire to linger at graduation. I was as anxious to get on with my life as anyone." She reached up then and laid her palm in the middle of his chest. He hoped she couldn’t feel the way her nearness had affected him; his heart was hammering against his ribcage. "I was anxious to return to my husband."
He blinked down into her beautiful upturned face, and took a slight step back. "About that…" He saw a shadow pass over her bright eyes, and she let her hand fall away.
"You’ve changed your mind," she murmured. She closed her eyes briefly, measuring her breathing before opening them again. "You’ve decided that you don’t want to be married to me."
"No." His voice came out more forcefully than he’d intended, and she jumped before her widened eyes came back to his face. "I mean… that’s not... I mean..." Startled by his own uncharacteristic lack of eloquence, he turned for a moment, one hand going to his hair. He straightened and turned back, forcing his hands to his sides.
"I meant," he began again, forcing himself to speak slowly, "that I want you to choose, to be absolutely certain that what you actually desire is a marriage… with me. I am… just as I am, Hermione. As I’ve always been. I am, quite literally, twice your age. I am a potions master in a school. I teach hoards of idiot children from inept witches and wizards to brew potions. A skill most of them never become adequate at.
“Once in a very great while, I have a student who excels. Once in a lifetime," he went on, his voice softening as he studied her face, "I have one who achieves true greatness. We married at a point in your life when you were desperate. It would grieve me if you chose to undermine your own prospects because of some… misplaced feelings of affection that you might have… for me."
She stared at him as his words sank in, then she shook her head slowly. "Is it so difficult for you to believe that I might actually want to be with you?" She murmured, taking another step closer to him. "That I might… love you?"
"All but impossible," he said even as she continued to move towards him. "I cannot conceive of a single reason why you would."
She did not stop until she was standing directly in front of him, and she lifted both of her hands and placed them on his chest. That was when he saw the ring.
"My mother’s ring," he murmured, staring at it.
"Your wife’s ring," Hermione countered, and stepped into his body, pressing herself against him. Severus felt it like an electric shock through the whole of his body. "Severus, are you trying to tell me that you have no feelings for me, other than friendship?"
He shook his head. One of her graceful hands slid up to the side of his throat, her thumb touching his skin above his tunic, and he swallowed.
"Or that you don’t desire me?"
He stared into her wide eyes and found that he couldn’t lie to her. "I do desire you," he said hoarsely. "Very much."
Her smile spread slowly across her face, and she slipped her hand to his nape, pulling his face towards hers. "Then I’d appreciate it," she whispered, her breath touching his lips, "if you’d show me." She closed her mouth over his, and he was lost.
It had been longer than he cared to think since he’d last kissed anyone, and he was certain that it had never felt like this. Her lips were soft; her breath, sweet. She moved her mouth against his, and she was the first to venture forward with her tongue. Sleek and mobile, it touched the corner of his lips and was like tinder to a long dried pile of kindling. He ignited, his arms going around her hard, lifting her to her toes, and he let himself kiss her as he’d longed to, dreamt of—with his lips, his teeth, his tongue. His body. He felt the soft cushion of her breasts against his chest, and made a sound in his throat, angling his head the other way, taking what she was so freely and sweetly offering. Her hand curled up the back of his head and gripped his hair, and his groin grew heavy. Unthinking, acting on impulse alone, he pressed his hardness against her. The soft, distressed sound she made in response sobered him instantly, and he separated their lips and started to pull away but she wouldn’t release him. Closing his eyes tightly, he rested his forehead against hers.
"Forgive me," he whispered. "I did not mean to frighten you."
He was startled by her laughter, and he looked down into her eyes. They were dancing, and her lips were swollen and parted, and she looked at him as if he were the most wonderful, desirable thing she’d seen in the whole of her life.
"You didn't frighten me," she said, her voice slightly husky. "I’ve never been so flattered. Or relieved." She pressed herself against him, and he had to open his mouth to catch a breath. "Because I’ve wanted you desperately, Severus, and couldn’t imagine a life without you." All of the love and desire in the world was shining in her eyes, and he simply could not believe that her expression was aimed at him.
"Hermione, I’m… not a young man," he whispered. "I don’t want to disappoint you."
Her smile turned sly and, holding his eyes, she slid her hand down his chest, past his waist, to his groin. She palmed him through his tunic and trousers, caressingly him boldly, and the feel of her hand on him was nothing short of miraculous. "I don’t believe that your advanced age is going to be a problem, sir," she said archly. "Now, husband of mine, don’t you think it’s time you took me to bed?" Her grin turned saucy, and he growled, bending slightly, shocking her by scooping her up easily in his arms. She squeaked, and then laughed aloud.
"Old, he says," she teased, smiling at him tenderly, her hand coming up to caress his cheek. He kissed the smile from her face as he carried her into their bedroom.
ooOOoo
As I watched Evelyn Snape find her seat at the Ravenclaw table, and respond to the greetings of her new classmates, I could not help but think of her parents. Theirs was a story that began with two lost souls, reaching out to each other in their time of need. But in the end, it was a remarkable love story that spanned loss and war and joined two people into a family. They were blessed with only one child, Evelyn, but she was cherished. Severus retired from Hogwarts the year after Hermione returned, and they moved to London, where they worked together at St. Mungo's in potions research.
Their potion advancements made them famous. But it was their love that made them whole.
